Adventures in Swashbuckling
by siobhane
Summary: When Rinoa lies her way onto the pirate ship Lionheart in search of adventure, she gets more than she bargained for. There's a handsome, cranky Captain, rival pirates, sunken treasure beyond her wildest dreams, a pair of bickering ghosts, kitchen mishaps, bounty hunters, sea monsters, and maybe even a little romance. That is, if the Captain doesn't throw her overboard first...
1. Chapter 1

Notes: Okay, so this is a re-post of the original which I deleted a while back because someone was driving me crazy about updates and I didn't want to deal with the constant demands to post more at the time. But, I'm going to try it again and see, since I'm reposting it on ao3. Please note, that version will be slightly smutty. This one will be mostly vanilla.

It's been edited and cleaned up, plus I've added some new/expanded dialogue. There are a lot of cameo appearances by characters from other installments of the Final Fantasy series, but the primary cast is still FFVIII.

This whole thing started with a dare. Write a cheesy romance in the style of one of those books with a half-naked Fabio on the cover. Then invert/subvert the tropes. The result is crack with too many ff characters in it. But of all the stories I've written, this one was the most fun. I don't know if I managed to subvert any tropes, and I'm still not sure if there's a plot, but I enjoyed writing it.

Hope you enjoy, too!

* * *

 _ **Adventures in Swashbuckling**_

* * *

 **One**

Rinoa Heartilly-Caraway was _late_.

Time management was not her forte, but no one would wait for her today if she was tardy.

She cursed herself for dallying over what to take and what to leave, then cursed her father for lingering too long and delaying her escape. If he'd gone to his meeting when he was supposed to, Rinoa would already be staring back at port from the other side of a ship's bow.

She pushed her way through throngs of peasants and merchants and ignored the reek of the fish market and all the other unpleasant odors that permeated the air. The universe seemed determined to make her even later, and if she was, she would miss her only chance to escape her father's oppressive home and the impending doom of mind-numbing domesticity.

If she stayed, she would shrivel up and die of too much embroidery and boredom. She craved adventure and romance and action, and there was none of that for her here. Her father wanted to see her married to an awful man, and expected her to be a proper young lady in lace gloves and petticoats. To speak only when spoken to. To be seen and not heard.

Rinoa had no patience for that sort of thing. She might have plenty of practice, but she loathed embroidery and proper social engagements with her peers. All that gossip over afternoon tea and talk of who was courting who – it was all just so _boring_ and pointless. She wanted to see the world and experience all it had to offer before she settled down to be some stranger's wife. That would never happen if she stayed here and obeyed her father's orders.

Hyne, even the Galas and the parades of suitors had grown predictable and tired. She used to love to dance with handsome men, all vying for her attention. She knew it was her father's good name, his _money_ , they were interested in, and not her winning personality or pretty face. Once she understood that, the Galas and social events lost their appeal. She was _not_ a barganing chip.

And so, her mind began to wander as she danced her way through party after party, imagining some mysterious and dashing young man would come and save her from her sad, boring, predictable life. Just like in her favorite books.

There was no handsome, dangerous savior waiting to swoop in to rescue her, and no such man existed. That man was just a figment of her imagination, the sort of hero only found in stories.

Rinoa Heartilly-Caraway had no choice but to rescue herself instead. She would take matters into her own hands, determine her own fate, independent of her father or a husband.

A week ago, the opportunity to escape landed right in her lap. As she wandered along the docks to gaze at the ships, dressed down in a simple wool and linen frock to fit in with the commoners, a woman approached her and asked if she knew anyone with experience as a cook.

Rinoa was wary at first.

Though the woman wore a gown of expensive silk and possessed the bearing of a queen, there was something dangerous about her. Intuition said this woman was not someone Rinoa wanted to tangle with.

The whip and the dagger at her hip were only a small part of how intimidating she was. There was something cold in her eyes. Something hungry.

Plenty of women armed themselves, especially near the wharf. It could be dangerous for a woman alone, but Quistis Trepe, First Mate of the famed Pirate ship _Lionheart_ did not fear the violence of lecherous men. Rinoa sensed right away that men needed to fear _her_.

This was the kind of woman Rinoa would never be, but deeply admired. No one told her what to do. She would never be told she had no choice but to marry the man of her father's choosing, and she would destroy any man who dared to try.

When the First Mate asked about an available cook, Rinoa lied through her teeth.

Yes. Of _course_ she could cook.

Luck must have been on her side. Trepe hired her on the spot, and now she was on her way, though running very late for the adventure of a lifetime that awaited her on the high seas.

So long as she didn't miss her ride.

She hoisted her bag higher on her shoulder and her steps quickened as the herd thinned at the end of the fish market. The triple masts of the great ship rose above the harbor, all three taller and more prominent than any of the others. She smiled at the black flag depicting a prideful lion head on a cross. The fabric flapped in a crisp wind and announced to all that the infamous Lionheart was at port.

As she made her way down the dock, her foot tangled in a coil of thick rope left lying on the weathered wood. She squeaked, flailed, and landed face-down on the wooden planks, her foot still hopelessly tangled.

She prayed no one saw, but the laughter behind her said otherwise.

Carefully, she kicked her entangled foot free, pushed herself to her knees and straightened the skirts of her dress. She pressed a hand to her face, her cheek warm where it struck the dock, and the men behind her laughed harder.

She sighed at her clumsiness, but lifted her chin and hitched her bag up over her shoulder again. She was not off to a great start so far, but at least she didn't fall into the harbor and lose her belongings, too.

A dark-haired man watched from the bow of the _Lionheart_ , smirking at her lack of grace. Rinoa frowned back.

Hmm. Well, she would be sure to avoid _that_ one while aboard. A gentleman would come down to make sure she was all right.

Then again, she was boarding a Pirate ship, so she could not expect chivalry. After all, from all she'd read about Pirates, they were only chivalrous when it served them.

She headed up the gangplank and found herself inside the belly of the ship. The crew was doing... _things_. She assumed they were all engaged in tasks required to ready the ship for sail, though she had no name for half of what she saw. She edged around them toward the galley, which was located at the front of the ship.

The galley was empty, except for a young man with spiky, sandy blonde hair, a healthy tan, and a wicked looking tattoo on the left side of his face. He was short, but muscular and he didn't look friendly. Rinoa bit her lip and wondered what she'd gotten herself into.

"You lost?"

He spared her a glance before he returned his attention to the wood stove. He chucked a few pieces of wood inside and the flames licked up against the grate.

"I'm looking for Zell," she said.

He flashed a sunny grin that made his pretty blue eyes crinkle at the corners. Smiling, he was far less threatening. No one with a smile like that could be mean.

"You found him," he said. "What'cha need?"

"I'm Rinoa," she said. "First Mate Trepe hired me for the cook's assistant job."

"Perfect timing," Zell said. "Come on in and we'll get started."

Rinoa stepped inside the galley and looked around. The wood stove was on the left, pantries on the right. A wooden butcher's block dominated the middle of the room. Barrels of things were stacked haphazardly here and there, and crates of vegetables sat next to the door. The whole room smelled of wood fire and flour and something earthy.

"Ye can put yer things in that bunk over there," Zell said. He pointed toward the front of the room. "Take the bottom. Top one's mine."

"What?"

He pulled back a dirty muslin curtain to reveal two pairs of bunks set into the wall, one above the other and a crude ladder made of knotted rope. The empty bottom bunk was neatly made with rough-spun, inexpensive fabric.

"Just put yer bag there."

"We're sharing quarters?"

"Cooks sleep in the galley," Zell said. "Blank and Cinna are over there."

He pointed to the bunks on the other side. Stupefied, Rinoa dropped her bag onto the thin mattress.

"Word to the wise," Zell said. "Do not play cards with Blank and never drink with Cinna."

Rinoa wiped her sweaty hands on her dress and gazed around the room that would be her home indefinitely. She thought there would be separate quarters for ladies. Speaking from experience, she knew a woman's reputation could be utterly ruined for less.

But this was an adventure and she was no longer a proper lady with a good reputation. She would take things as they were and not complain. Even if it meant sharing sleeping quarters with men.

"All the cooking utensils and pots are here," Zell said and opened a cabinet below the workspace. "The knives are mine, so treat 'em with respect. I plan menus ahead of time, and all the recipes are in that book over there." He pointed to the counter near the pantry. "We do three meals a day, no snacks, so if ye see anyone in here helping themselves besides the Cap'n or the First Mate, you have my permission to get violent. I recommend a frying pan to the skull. They usually don't come back after that."

Rinoa let out a little laugh, then sobered when she realized he was serious.

"What am I responsible for?" she asked.

"You'll help me with meal preparation, but your main job will be serving the Cap, the First Mate and the Quartermaster, Xu. They dine in their quarters, everyone else eats out there," Zell said hitching a thumb toward the room outside. "Cap, Quistis, and Xu are served first, then the crew, and then us."

"What do Blank and Cinna do?"

Zell grinned.

"All the stuff I don't wanna do," he said. "Peel potatoes, gut fish, wash dishes, clean up the barf when the crew drinks too much. Stuff like that."

That sounded okay. At least she wouldn't be washing dishes or gutting fish or cleaning up vomit. She could handle being a cook and a serving girl, even if she really didn't know _how_ to cook.

The truth was, Rinoa Heartilly-Caraway never cooked a thing in her life. She wasn't even sure how to boil water and she never needed to know until now. She figured it couldn't be that hard, so long as there were instructions. With a little practice, she'd be fine. Until then, she'd fake it.

A streak of yellow and brown burst into the galley and flung itself into the only chair in the room. Rinoa started as the visitor sighed dramatically and propped her feet up on a vegetable crate. She wore a bright yellow tunic over brown pants tucked into knee-high boots, and her hair was flipped up on the ends.

"Outta my kitchen Sef," Zell said.

"I'm hiding," the girl said. "From _Irvy_."

"What now?"

"He's a filthy picaroon," she said and stuck out her lip. "That's what."

"Psh, how is that different from any other day?" Zell asked. "Rinoa, this is Selphie. She and Irvine handle munitions, though why in Hyne's name anyone thought it was a good idea to let her anywhere near the explosives is beyond me."

"Because I'm good at blowing stuff up," Selphie said. Her eyes narrowed. "And ye know it."

"Don't threaten the cook, Sef," Zell said and pointed his wooden spoon at her. He poured on the accent. "Ye might get a _special_ meal, made especially fer ye."

Selphie rolled her eyes and hopped to her feet to look Rinoa over.

"Can I call you Rinny?" Selphie asked.

"Um... I guess?" she said. "My friends call me Rin sometimes."

"You and me are gonna be best mates, Rinny," Selphie said. There was an impish gleam in her eyes. "I can feel it."

The girl was friendly enough but something about her screamed violence and mayhem. Rinoa wasn't sure if that was good thing or a bad thing, but it would be nice to have a female friend on the ship. There didn't seem to be many of them around, Selphie being only the second she knew of, and though the First Mate was polite, but she was not terribly friendly.

Selphie plucked an apple from the crate by the door and opened her mouth to take a bite. Zell turned on her with a glare and whacked her on the hand with his spoon.

"Get outta me kitchen if you know what's good for ya," Zell said. "No grazing!"

"Geez, you're stingy," Selphie said. "Like you're going to miss one little apple."

"Say that again when we're twenty days out and all we have left is rice and turnips and rats," Zell said.

Rinoa cringed. He wasn't serious, was he? Rats? Rats weren't food, they were diseased vermin, and as far as she knew, not edible.

"That stew ya made last time wasn't half bad," Selphie said.

"Aye. Except for the bones," Zell said.

"It gave it some texture," Selphie said. "And anyway, we're not going to be so far away from a port that we'll have to go without."

"Don't care. _No grazing_."

Selphie tossed the apple back into the crate. "Oh, by the way. "Cap'n's in a _mood_."

"Oh, great," Zell said. "Thanks for the heads up."

"Any time," Selphie said with a wave. "Come have a drink with me later, Rinny! I'll tell you which of these boys to watch out for."

"Irvine," Zell fake-coughed.

Selphie scowled and threw a potato at him. It missed, hit the wall, and rolled across the floor.

Zell turned on her with a scowl and chased her all the way out of the galley, brandishing his spoon.

When he returned, Zell showed Rinoa his book of recipes, the meal plan, and shared his tricks for making meals go further, which was to add potatoes, turnips or rice to everything.

She tried not to frown as she looked over the ingredients in the recipes. They looked bland, boring, and there wasn't a lot of variety. Most were stews, chowders or soups. Breakfast was boiled oats or hominy, both of which Rinoa detested.

"Let's get started on the bread," Zell said. "Should have time to whip up a few batches of dough and get 'em proofed before we set sail."

Zell was patient. He talked her through the recipe and only looked a little irritated when she dropped a whole cup of flour on the floor.

"Don't worry about it," he promised. "Just... Be careful. We don't have a lot of room for waste. If we run out, there aren't many ports where we can restock once we get to Centra, so we have to make it last."

"So, Selphie wasn't joking about the rat stew?"

"Aye, she wasn't joking," Zell said. "But, when you're hungry, it doesn't matter so much what ye eat, so long as it's hot and fills yer belly."

He reached for the broom. Rinoa took it from him and began to sweep the mess she made.

"I'm sorry about this," she said. "I'm nervous, I guess."

"I promise I don't bite," Zell said. "The Cap'n on the other hand...Well this'll stay between us."

He tried to take the broom from her, but Rinoa insisted on doing it herself. She made the mess, it was her job to clean it. Besides, maybe she would learn better by watching Zell work instead of jumping in blind. If she could pick up a few things by watching, maybe she could fake it well enough that no one would know she'd never cooked anything before.

"Topside!" a voice bellowed from the hall. "Crew, Topside, pronto!"

"That's our cue," Zell said. Of the mess Rinoa was still sweeping, he said, "just leave it."

Rinoa followed him up the stairs to the deck, where the entire crew gathered. Rinoa tried not to gawk at all the strange and ostentatious clothing around her, but it was hard not to stare.

Some were dressed in simple and practical clothing, but others wore breeches with fancy top coats and big, funny tricorn hats. It all seemed oddly formal to her, but she knew nothing about living on a ship and what she knew of Pirates came from books and third-hand gossip.

One man in particular stood out. His hair was a shiny red-blonde and tied back with a black ribbon. On his head was a large hat of purple velvet with large plumes of feathers sticking out one side. Others wore similar hats, but his stood out because of the color and overall size in comparison. He also wore a long coat of burnished gold brocade that fell all the way to his calves and there were copious ruffles at his throat.

 _He must be the Captain! Handsome, but a bit of a dandy, isn't he?_

As she took him in, he turned on a charming smile and wiggled his eyebrows at her. She averted her gaze, embarrassed to be caught staring. If he was the Captain, it certainly didn't seem like he was in a mood. Then again, Selphie never specified what _kind_ of mood he might be in. Perhaps she meant lustful and salacious. Ready to pillage and ravage the way Pirates did in books.

The crew went silent as the door below the ship's wheel opened and out stepped a man in a long, unadorned black coat, save the silver buttons down the front and at the wrists. Three thin, studded belts wrapped around his waist to secure an odd looking sword-revolver weapon Rinoa had never seen before. Under the jacket was a simple white linen shirt open at the collar. A lion pendant on a thick silver chain hung around his neck.

Unlike the others, he wore no hat and his wind-blown hair hid his face as he stalked across the deck to stand before the crew with his arms crossed over his chest. Rinoa shivered as though the temperature had dropped twenty degrees.

"That's the Captain," Zell whispered. "Look sharp when he's around. He don't like slackers, but he _does_ enjoy throwing them overboard."

Rinoa's posture straightened and she clasped her hands behind her back to keep them still. She was so nervous, she was sure it showed on her face, and she didn't want to seem like she was scared to death or intimidated. Even if she was.

The First Mate touched him lightly on the arm and whispered something in his ear. He gave her a curt nod and looked up, straight into Rinoa's eyes.

Eyes the color of blue steel peered back at her and her heart quickened in her chest.

Up close, he was devastatingly handsome in a pretty kind of way, and much, much younger than she imagined any ship Captain would be. He couldn't have been more than a year older than she was. If that.

To her dismay, she realized this was the same man who watched her fall so gracefully on the docks. The one who _smirked_ at her.

Of course she would fall on her face in front of the ship's Captain. That was just her luck. He must think her an uncoordinated dolt.

A deep blush spread over her cheeks as the corner of his mouth hitched up as though he was still amused by her stumble. Indignant, she lifted her chin and stared back until he swept his gaze over the rest of the crew.

"The Dread Pirate Almasy has been spotted east of Centra," he said. "Word has it, he's looking for the same thing we are."

He was rather soft-spoken and his voice was not as deep as she imagined it would be, but it was firm and commanding just the same. A voice like that could compel her to do almost anything. It sounded the way fine velvet felt and there was a hint of whiskey in it; a curious contrast to the aura of danger he projected.

"We can not afford to let him find it first," he said. "I want all hands on deck. We need to make waves if we're to catch up with him."

"What happens when we do?" A voice called out.

"Then we engage him," he said, "and make sure he's never a problem again."

"Booyaka!" Selphie shouted, earning her a wry look from the Captain. " _KaBOOM_!"

"Aye," he said. "We give him no quarter."

A chorus of agreement rose all around her. Rinoa had read enough in books to know that meant there would be no mercy for this rival.

Rinoa wondered what they were looking for. She hoped it was treasure, but the prospect of a high seas battle made her insides flutter. What if the ship sank and they all drowned?

"All crew members to your stations," he ordered. "Quistis, take the helm."

"Aye," Quistis said. "All crew to your stations!"

All around her the crew burst into frenzied motion and she shielded her eyes to watch men climb the masts and all the going to-and-fro. People called out things out to one another, and it was like listening to some new, exotic language. She didn't know what any of it meant, but it was _exciting_. Better than any daydream she ever had and better than any books she ever read.

When the sails unfurled, Rinoa lost her breath. They rippled and filled with a snap as the wind caught, and the ship began to move.

"Jib!" a voice behind her cried.

"What?" she asked as she turned around -

Only to be smacked in the head by the boom of the mainsail as it caught the wind and careened across the deck. Stars sparked behind her eyes and the world started to spin. A second later, she hit the deck, her vision blurred and then went dark.

* * *

Rinoa awoke some time later, unsure of where she was, but her head was pounding and she could see her pulse in her eyes.

The room was dim, lit only by a candle in a glass holder on the table. Fine tapestries hung on the walls, along with maps and charts of the stars. The bed she lay in was wide and plush and smelled of something spicy and masculine.

She sat up and took a look around, only to find the Captain staring back at her from his place at the table across the room.

"How's your head?"

"Hurts," she croaked. "What happened?"

"You didn't have the sense to duck when you were told to."

Rinoa didn't remember being told to duck, but she suspected she'd done something monumentally stupid. She raised a hand to the lump on the side of her head, winced, and let it drop to her lap.

"Where am I?"

"My quarters."

His voice was soft, but his tone was icy and there was something predatory in his steely, cat-like stare. She half feared he was going to do something untoward to her and a shiver of terror went through her entire body. She was in his room, in his _bed_. Pirates took what they wanted, didn't they?

She swore, if he tried anything, she would stab him with his own revolver-sword thing.

"Can you stand?"

"I think so."

"Then get out and go back to work," he said and turned his attention from her to peer at a map on the table in front of him.

Rinoa scrambled to her feet, grateful that he seemed to have no interest in ravishing her. She all but ran from the room.

Twice now, she fell right on her face in front of him. He must think she was completely incapable of staying vertical.

Staying vertical continued to prove a more difficult task than anticipated as she rushed out onto deck. A strong wind blew her hair into her eyes, and the boat rocked beneath her feet. She took a few wobbly steps toward the stairs and her stomach rolled.

Still, the view was incredible. The ocean around the ship was a vast, deep ultramarine capped in white, and it stretched in all directions to the horizon. There wasn't even a sliver of land in sight.

A fresh, salty spray washed over the deck as the ship cut a path through the waves and Rinoa remembered why she decided to do this.

She was _free_! No more boring suitors or stiff, formal parties. No more overbearing father, no more staring out the window, full of dreams that would never come true. No more embroidery!

A giggle bubbled up in her chest and she righted herself, determined to see this through.

Down in the galley, Zell was in the midst of dinner preparation. He cast a harried and irritated glance at the two men on the floor peeling potatoes. When he spied Rinoa, he smiled and ushered her into the room.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "Never seen anyone go down that hard."

"I'm fine."

"You didn't hear the jib?"

"What's a jib?"

"Oh man, you've never been on a ship before, have ye?"

Rinoa bit her lip and shook her head.

"Well, that explains a lot," he said and returned to the pot at the stove. "Whenever anyone yells the word jib or jibe, it means ye need to duck because the boom's on the move and if ye don't get down in time... well, ye found out the hard way what happens."

"That would have been a useful piece of information to know beforehand."

"I woulda told you if I'd known ye were a virgin."

"What does my virtue have to do with it?" Rinoa asked, appalled.

Zell smirked at the pot on the stove and snorted. He reached for an apron at tossed it to her.

"Put that on. We've got work to do."

Cooking was a lot more work than she thought it would be. She burned her hand twice when removing bread from the oven, and she'd nearly chopped her finger off while slicing carrots to put into the mutton stew. She accidentally burned two loaves of bread and dropped a third on the floor. The two burned loaves couldn't be served, but Zell assured her he would find use for them. The dropped loaf, he dusted off and stacked with the others.

"The miscreants will never know," he said with a wink.

Zell wasn't phased by the pace of the work. He bounced around the room and banged on things with spoons when idle. Rinoa couldn't keep up, but she tried, and at least he was friendly. He chatted about the crew and the troubles with the pirate the captain mentioned. Zell described the Dread Pirate Almasy in a deeply unfavorable light, and Rinoa wondered if he was related to another Almasy she met not so long ago.

He also gave her some pointers and things to look out for aboard the ship, all of which would be helpful in the days and weeks to come. She was only now aware of how out of her depth she was, and any little bit of advice was welcome. Her survival aboard this ship would depend on it.

Rinoa was exhausted by the time the meal was ready. She'd never worked this hard in her entire life. While there was something very liberating about real work, she didn't expect to be so tired and nauseous after, either.

Her stomach rolled, and she wasn't sure why. Nerves, maybe, but between the ship swaying under her feet and the frantic pace, her stomach was in revolt.

Zell prepared a tray with large bowl, a tureen full of stew, a loaf of bread, and a bottle of red wine, and pushed it across the counter.

"Take this up to the Cap'n," Zell said. "And make sure you ask him if he requires anything else. Say it just like that. He's an all right guy and he's a great Cap'n, but he's particular about the way things are done."

"Got it," Rinoa said and lifted the tray. "Be right back."

On unsteady legs, she climbed the ladder. It wasn't easy to balance the tray and ascend at the same time. Her headache and nausea didn't help. She almost dropped the tray twice, but managed to make it to the top without spilling anything.

Outside the door of the Captain's quarters, she hesitated. Was she supposed to knock? She couldn't let go of the tray without causing the contents to slide, so she used her foot to kick the door with her boot.

At that exact same moment, the Captain opened the door, and her foot collided with his shin, not once, but _twice_.

Rinoa dropped the tray in surprise, and the contents of both tureen and wine bottle spilled all over the Captain.

He stared at her and wiped a bit of mutton off his cheek.

She was done for. He would make her walk the plank for this, have her hanged. Whatever Pirates did for punishment.

So, she did the only thing she could think of to do. She looked him square in the eye and asked:

"Will you be requiring anything else, sir?"


	2. Chapter 2

2

The Captain stared at her, coldly furious, his stormy blue eyes unflinching and intense.

Rinoa took a step back. She instantly regretted her saucy question but she didn't know if an apology would make it better or worse. He followed her retreat onto the deck. Every step backward was mirrored by his advance.

Earlier, she'd gotten the impression of something cat-like in his gaze, and now she saw it in the way his body moved, too.

Rinoa was aware she had nowhere to go. If she wished to escape, her only choice was to jump into the sea, but she stayed her course and continued to shuffle backward, oddly captivated by the youth in his face. He couldn't be much older than she was. A year. Maybe two at the most.

How did one so young become so notorious and accomplished? The only things Rinoa had accomplished in her short life was to master needlepoint and to utterly destroy her previously spotless reputation.

Well, she wasn't entirely to blame for the latter, but she wasn't blameless, either. Her own foolish choices were certainly a factor, something she couldn't deny no matter how hard her father tried to place blame elsewhere. He'd been conned too, after all.

The Captain lunged forward to seize her, but Rinoa jumped out of the way and changed course. She didn't take her eyes off him, didn't turn and run like prey. No matter how scary or intimidating he was, she wouldn't back down. She would not be the obedient socialite she'd been raised to be, and he was just a boy, really. A terrifying one, to be sure, but if she could stand up to a military general like her father, she was confident she could stand up to a boy playing at being a Pirate.

She stopped retreating, sure that he would back off if she refused to play his game, and placed her hands on her hips.

"If you think for one second -"

In one smooth motion, the Captain swept her up over his shoulder and stalked toward the side of the ship.

Rinoa was momentarily stunned by the shift in gravity and jarred by the unexpected upside-down view of the world, but only for a second. She shrieked, indignant, and fought his grip, but his arm locked around the back of her knees, keeping her firmly in place.

"Put me down!" she cried. "Put me down right now!"

"I don't think so."

She kicked her feet and screamed, clawed and struggled as he turned his back on the sea and leaned her head and torso over the water. Salty sea spray misted her face and arms and she felt herself begin slide out of his grip.

"NO!" she screamed. Her fingers latched onto one of his belts. "Put me down!"

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't keelhaul you."

"What?" she cried. "What does that mean?"

"Tie you to a rope and throw you overboard."

He couldn't mean that. That was positively _barbaric_! All she'd done was spill a little food. And maybe fall down once or twice. And maybe sass him a little. That didn't warrant being dragged behind the ship. It wasn't as if she'd poisoned his food.

"Tell me why I shouldn't."

"You shouldn't because it's mean! You _meany_!"

She punctuated her words with ineffective slaps and dug her nails into whatever parts of him she could reach. She would not die like this. Not when her adventure had just begun. It wasn't her fault he'd opened the door too soon, and it wasn't her fault she'd fallen down or had gotten knocked out by the boom. That was just a bit of bad luck. There was no reason to go to such extreme punishment for such small things. She imagined any rookie sailor might make the same mistakes.

"Meany," he repeated tonelessly. "That hurts my feelings."

Meany didn't have the impact here that it did among her peers back on land. She wished she had the guts to say something stronger, but the rules of decorum were so deeply ingrained in her being, the mere thought made her blush.

"Put. Me. _Down_."

He leaned her further over the railing and Rinoa screamed, grabbing at his coat with her free hand.

"If I go down, I'm taking you with me," she bluffed. "Don't think I won't!"

He loosened his grip on her legs a little more and she used his belt to draw her torso back to him. She managed to get a hold of his waist, wrapped both arms around his middle, and held on for dear life. No way was she letting go now. He would have to jump into the sea to dislodge her.

Being upside down was not helping her nausea any, and now all the blood was rushing to her head. She grew dizzy and her stomach rolled.

"I'm gonna be sick," she warned. "I won't hesitate to aim for your boots."

That did the trick. He pulled away from the railing and let go of her legs. She fell in an unceremonious heap on the deck, face-up, with both arms tangled around his ankles. Fearing that he wasn't done, she held on and looked up at him for any sign that he'd given up the fight.

"Let go," he said.

"Not until you promise not to throw me off the boat."

"It's not a boat."

"Whatever! Ship, boat, dinghy, I don't care what you call it, just promise, you're not going to throw me _off_ of it!"

"Let go."

"Promise!"

"Why shouldn't I toss you into the sea?"

"I can't swim."

"Not my problem."

Rinoa released his legs as a wave of nausea flooded up through her stomach and chest and she pressed her face into her hands. A cold sweat broke out on her skin and she felt light headed. She really _was_ going to be sick.

As he walked away, she jumped to her feet and stumbled over to the railing. She vomited over the side and then sank back down in a heap of fabric, feeling cold and shaky. She used the hem of her dress to wipe her mouth and sat there, eyes closed, until her stomach settled and the chill passed.

Once she'd gotten a hold of herself, she stood carefully. She was still nauseous and unsteady and the ship beneath her swayed and rocked and threatened to make it worse. She grabbed a nearby rope to steady herself, only to release it as a man appeared out of nowhere.

He wasn't there a second ago. She was sure of it.

The man's long, dark hair was tied back in a pony tail, and he wore a black tri-corn hat trimmed in gold. His knee length black coat, faded to a charcoal gray by time and salty air, had wide cuffs and tarnished brass buttons. Underneath, he wore a light blue tunic which was torn in places, and a frayed scarf tied around his waist to secure a long, thin blade.

He looked just like the Pirates in the storybooks. Friendlier, but he had the costume down to perfection.

"You'll be fine once you get your boat legs," he promised with a wink and a broad grin. "I fell down a lot my first time on a ship. 'Corse, fallin' down's what landed me on a ship in the first place."

Rinoa decided she must be hallucinating. She could swear on her mother's grave she could see through the man. He was there, but she could see the masts and sails and ropes through the shape he made in front of her. She shook her head and closed her eyes to clear her vision, but when she opened them, the man was still there, and she could still see straight through him.

"He means sea legs."

A woman appeared a few paces away from the man. She, too, was dressed like something out of a story. Pirate wench crossed with carnival fortune-teller, Rinoa decided. Her split-front skirt was ragged and torn at hem and wrapped tight around her waist was a thick brown leather belt with a tarnished brass buckles that secured a ring of keys on one side, and a long curved sword on the other.

She was pretty, with a calm and confident air. A second look told Rinoa her clothing, though worn and weathered, was of good, perhaps even fine, quality. Not a wench, then. Someone of a higher station than that.

Though ever detail of this woman's clothing and features were crystal clear, Rinoa could see the last remnants of the setting sun through her body. She could see the masts and the sails and the forecastle and men going about their work on deck.

Rinoa didn't believe in ghosts, though as a girl, she and her friends had delighted in a good, scary story or two. But standing there, looking the pair over, she suddenly wondered if maybe there really was such a thing.

Or perhaps she'd bumped her head harder than she'd thought and nausea was making her vision blur. That was a more realistic explanation than seeing ghosts.

Unable to help her curiosity, Rinoa reached out and poked the man's shoulder. Her finger passed through with only a little resistance and was enveloped in a cold, thick, syrup-like substance. She was equally repulsed as she was fascinated.

He let out a scream of pain. Rinoa withdrew her fingertip and screamed along with him as she stumbled back until she hit something solid.

"I'm sorry!" she cried. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

The man burst into laughter then gave her a pat on the arm that she didn't feel, unless she counted the sensation of a cool breeze passing over her skin and the goosebumps that raised on her arms. She shivered and blinked at him, unsure of what was happening.

"Just kiddin'," he said. "It's always fun doin' that to the virgins."

Rinoa frowned at the word. She knew by now it didn't necessarily mean the same thing it did back home, where a woman's virtue was carefully guarded and considered ruined if one so much as spoke to a man in private. Virginity was highly prized by potential suitors, though theirs was never a factor in making a match. She'd once wondered aloud why that was while in the company of her peers and they'd all stared at her like she was speaking in tongues.

Here, it seemed to mean something less taboo. That would take some getting used to.

"What's the fun of being trapped on this immoral plain if I can't make people scream from time to time?"

The woman sent the man a scathing glare

"The only thing _immoral_ is the way ye butcher language, Laguna Loire," she said.

She turned her stormy eyes on Rinoa.

"Rather pretty, aren't you?" she said. Her expression was troubled. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

"Um, thanks?" Rinoa said.

She didn't know what the woman meant, but she didn't think she should ask.

"Don't mind the Captain," the woman said gently. "He's a good boy at heart. He just hasn't found himself yet."

Rinoa doubted that very much. He seemed positively awful. And terrifying and mean and really, really horrible. He was certainly handsome, but a handsome face didn't make up for almost throwing her overboard. Or for being terrible. Or for laughing at her. Well, he hadn't actually laughed, but she remembered the look on his face when she'd tripped on the docks. He might as well have laughed.

Laguna climbed up on the rail and walked along it as though the ship wasn't rocking from side to side, his arms held out for balance. With a flourish and a grin, he offered his hand to the woman to take.

"Get down from there before ye fall off the ship again."

"Aww, live a little, Raine," he said with a grin. "Have a little fun for once!"

"Live a little!" Raine cried. "We've been dead for seventeen years, and ye say _live a little_!"

"Swim with me, my darling," Laguna said.

He crooked his finger, beckoning Raine to join him. His smile was adoring and playful, like he had eyes for nothing else in the world but her. Raine frowned and put her hands on her hips.

Rinoa noticed a simple gold ring on Raine's left hand and her eyes immediately went to Laguna. He wore a similar ring.

Well. Now she knew she was hallucinating. This whole thing was so ridiculous, like a adolescent fantasy borne from reading too many romance novels. She wondered if the ship had a doctor. She'd obviously hit her head so hard, she'd lost her grip on reality.

"You silly fool," Raine said. "Get down from there."

"If I fall, will you save me?" he asked playfully.

"I'll leave ye to drown," she said back, "like I should've the first time. How in the world I fell in love with such a landlubber is beyond me."

"I'm such a lucky man," he said dreamily and pressed a hand to his heart.

"You're a stupid man."

"But you love me."

"Aye."

"If you love with me, you'll swim with me," he singsonged.

"Ye know it's not the same."

"Then we'll pretend!" he said throwing his arms out. Then, he jumped over the side, crying, "Man overboard!"

There was no splash, but when Rinoa looked over the side, Laguna was doing a lazy backstroke through the water beside the moving ship. An involuntary laugh escaped her lips and she covered her smile with her hand.

"Come down, Cap'n! The water's great!" he called up to her.

"Aye Cap'n," she called back. "I don't take orders, I give them."

"Get in the water, Raine!" he said, "Or I swear, you'll get the cuchi-cuchi treatment later."

"I'll cuchi-cuchi you, ya silly man!"

They seemed awfully real, in spite of being see-through. Perhaps the Captain had thrown her overboard and she was having a very strange near-death experience. Perhaps, they were welcoming her to the other side. If that was the case, she supposed it wasn't so bad. There were worse ways to be sent off, and at least the company was entertaining.

"Rainy me darlin', Rainy me sweetheart," Laguna sang, loud and tunelessly. "Let's go swimin' in the moooon-light."

Raine made a face and pressed a hand to her forehead. She muttered something Rinoa didn't hear as Laguna sang louder.

"My Rainy lies over the ocean, my Rainy lies over the seaaaaaa!"

Rinoa giggled as Laguna waved his arms like he was conducting an orchestra. The man was decidedly fun, even if he was dead. She suspected that though Raine seemed irritated by Laguna's antics, she was secretly enjoying it. All her insults had been laced with a bit of affection and now, as she looked down at her husband, there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

"If I come down, will ye stop singing?"

"Cross my heart."

Raine stepped up onto the railing, swung her legs over and jumped. Wide eyed, Rinoa looked down to see the two frolicking in the water beside the ship as though it was moored in calm waters. They splashed and play-fought and swam through the churning sea, laughing as if they hadn't a care in the world.

How romantic. To be so in love, they'd stuck with one another, even in death. And they were obviously still very much in love. So incredible, to see a love that endured, even after death.

Rinoa had been raised in a society where love didn't matter as much as status. Marriages were more or less arranged, the goal to bring wealth or power to a family. There was little room or opportunity for love and attraction. And if the marriage wasn't arranged, the match had to at least meet the approval of the family. To see love, _real_ love, made her heart swell.

When the two down below began to exchange kisses, Rinoa turned away. She would let them have their privacy, though she wondered if it even mattered. They were dead, after all. Laguna, at least, was past the point of caring what was proper and what wasn't.

She nearly forgot about the Captain and his spilled dinner until she saw him standing in the darkened doorway of his quarters watching her. How long had he been there? Had he seen her watching Raine and Laguna, or had she appeared a complete ditz, standing there alone, interacting with thin air?

A blush colored her cheeks and she hurried over to gather the scattered dishes. She avoided making eye contact as he continued to stand there, his eyes following her every move. It made her nervous, and the dishes clattered together as she stacked them on the tray.

"I'll be right back," she promised.

She chanced a look at his face and couldn't tell if he was still angry or not. His arms crossed over his chest and one eyebrow hitched up as she got to her feet.

"Try not to bathe me in it this time."

Her blush deepened. She felt like crying, but she would be damned if she cried in front of him. She was on a Pirate ship. That meant she was sort-of a Pirate too, and Pirates didn't cry.

She lifted her chin and met his eyes. There was something in his expression that made her want to do her worst. It offered up a challenge she couldn't resist accepting.

Before she could stop herself, she said:

"You're lucky I'm bringing you anything," she snapped. "You did try to kill me."

He snorted softly and turned away without a word.

* * *

Squall Leonhart sat in his quarters, looking over a map of Centra's coastline. It was said that the legendary pirate ship Griever had met its end somewhere in the shallow waters along those rocky crags, taking a treasure greater than any before it straight to the bottom of the sea. Squall might have passed it off as a mere legend, if not for the set of keys Cid had given him as a boy.

There were six of them on a big iron ring, each one cast in the shape of a lion's head. Each was rumored to open a chest full of gold and jewels.

The Griever had been undersea for so long, Squall was certain the chests had rotted away decades ago and the keys would be unnecessary if they ever found the remains of the great ship. For all anyone knew, the treasure was long gone. At best, he expected if they did find the wreckage, the tide might have scattered whatever there was to be had along the ocean floor. At worst, someone beat them to it long ago and there was nothing to be had.

Or, perhaps, it was just a legend, as so many now believed.

The keys were less important than where they'd come from, or why they belonged to Squall. Squall wasn't even sure if they mattered.

Some days, he was tempted to throw them into the sea. He didn't want or need the constant reminder of the legacy he'd inherited. He had enough of a reminder in the pair of ghosts that didn't want to vacate the ship, even after meeting their own untimely end seventeen years ago.

He was haunted, in more ways than one. Haunted by the looming specters of two pirates far greater than himself. The first was quite possibly a myth, but the second had been very real, and at present, she sat across from him at the table watching him toy with the keys on the ring. Blue eyes exactly like his own watched him wordlessly as he counted the keys and ran his thumb over the ornate face of each lion head carved in iron.

She spoke to him all the time, but he rarely responded. What was the point? She was dead and she pointedly refused to move on. There was nothing she could say to him now that would change that or make a difference in his trajectory. He was Captain now, in spite of his reservations.

Raine Leonhart had gotten what she wanted. Her son had followed her footsteps and now he was Captain of her ship. She'd gotten her wish.

Well, not everything she wanted. She was dead, and she'd never found the treasure that had claimed her life too soon, leaving Squall to grow up orphaned and on a collision-course with a fate he had no choice but to accept. Now it was on him to find it and to live up to her legacy. Until then, he was a boy captain, standing in her notorious shadow.

"You're not eating," Raine said.

Squall ignored her. Even in death, she was still a mother and oh-so concerned about his eating habits and his health and his relative happiness. He wondered, if she had lived to see him grow up, if he would resent her mothering as much. The woman was always there, always looking over his shoulder, looking after him, but she'd never been able to be his mother. Not in the ways that really counted.

Perhaps that wasn't her fault, but he still resented her constant presence and her concern, following him no matter where he went.

"You have a long journey ahead of you, Squall. You need to eat. You know as well as I do, food will be scarce later."

On the table, his dinner had grown cold. He had no interest in eating, though the second delivery had come without incident, and without the girl's sass. Strange that he was almost disappointed when she said nothing the second time around.

Squall clipped the key ring to his belt and returned his attention to the map. He took a long, pointed sip of his wine and let his eyes follow the ragged Centran coastline in search of the best place to drop anchor once they arrived. He thought of Seifer and his head start instead.

The other Captain had at least a day on him, but the Lionheart was a larger and faster vessel with twice as many crew and the best navigator there was. He was confident they could make up the time and overtake the Hyperion, but in truth, that wasn't what he wanted.

Seifer Almasy believed himself the better Captain, but he allowed his heart to rule his head. On the high seas, that was dangerous. All the heart in the world couldn't make up for lack of knowledge or practice and ambition meant nothing if one lacked the experience to back it up.

Unlike Squall, Seifer had not been groomed from birth to Captain a ship. At least, not to the extent Squall had been. Squall had the benefit of not one, but two experienced Captains looking over his shoulder all his life.

Someday, Almasy would be a good Captain. He was a natural leader, and he was as skilled as Squall at navigating the sea and her many moods, but he was too hot-headed and too ambitious to be sensible. Time and experience would temper his fire, but at present, he was a menace with something to prove after watching Squall succeed Cid as Captain of the Lionheart. And Squall was not fond of being thwarted by a small-time scoundrel with a grudge, an unwarranted sense of entitlement, and grandiose visions of fortune.

Squall would much rather be Almasy's ally, rather than his enemy, but Seifer's own actions made him a foe. He might have been First Mate if not for his subsequent tantrum and exit following Squall's appointment as Captain.

If the Lionheart were to encounter the Hyperion in open waters, Squall would have no choice but to ensure it was the last time Almasy sailed. By Seifer's own declaration, Squall was no longer family. He was competition.

Well. So be it.

"I wish you'd eat something," Raine said.

This was the voice of a mother and not the fierce, ruthless Captain Raine Leonhart. She'd learned that Squall might be guilted into doing as she wished if she appealed to him as his mother rather than ordering him to do something. Neither held much sway over him anymore, though sometimes, giving in was the best way to make her leave.

He took another swallow of his wine and finally looked up at the specter of the woman who had given birth to him. In her day, she'd been the most vicious, most dangerous, and most successful pirate on the seas. She'd been known for being smart, calculating, and calm, in even the worst of situations. She'd lived hard and died young, leaving behind a two-year old son, an adopted daughter, and a ship that had run aground in a storm.

"Go haunt Ellone," he said.

"You need me more than she does."

Squall gave a soft snort and fiddled with the keys on his belt.

"I've become everything you wanted me to be," he said tonelessly. "Why are you still here?"

"Because this is my ship. I'll stay as long as I please," she said.

A stubborn air lifted her chin and Squall saw the fierce Captain in her tenacious expression. Her calm defiance was familiar to him. It was a trait he'd inherited from her, along with countless other qualities, both good and bad. No one commanded Raine Leonhart, even in death.

But, she was lying to him. There was another reason she was still here, and Squall had long wondered if she wasn't waiting for him to find the treasure she wasted her life searching for.

All the more reason to claim it himself so his mother could finally rest and let him live in peace.

He refilled his glass and took another swallow of the drink, scrutinizing her steely countenance.

"It's not your ship anymore," he said, more to provoke her than anything. "It's mine."

"This will always be my ship," she said. "Even if it winds up on the bottom of the sea."

"Fine. You Captain it."

He got to his feet, swallowed down the rest of his wine, and walked out, leaving his mother behind.

Out on deck, the night was cool and he took a long, deep breath of salty air. Nida, his Navigator, was at the helm. Squall excused him so he could go eat, and took control of the ship. The view of the wide night sky and the dark ocean calmed him. Reluctant Captain or not, the sea and this ship was his home.

The winds were in their favor. A good omen, he hoped, but he knew better than to expect their luck to hold. Southeastern Galbadia was notorious for sudden, violent storms, and more than one experienced Captain had met his maker in the rough waters between Galbadia and Northern Centra. For now, fortune was on his side. The sea was calm, the wind held steady, and they were making good time.

"If I could Captain this ship, I would, you know," his mother's voice said behind him. "Dying wasn't exactly the plan."

"When is it ever?" he asked.

At the bow, his father stood with his feet planted on each side of the rail, flapping his arms like a bird. His imitation of a seagull's caw carried back to Squall on the wind, and Squall shook his head in irritation.

"Was he this much of an idiot when he was alive?"

Raine's soft laugh was full of affection and amusement.

"He wasn't this reckless, just clumsy, but yes. He was an idiot."

Squall knew the story of how they'd met, and of how that silly fool of a man fell off a cliff somewhere near Esthar. Raine and crew had found him floating face-down without a stitch on. Laguna was nearly dead by the time Raine fished him out of the sea, and he'd slept for almost three full days before he woke with no memory of what had happened to him.

Raine had a mind to dump him off at the nearest port once he was well, convinced he was bad luck, and sure he'd be the death of them all. A landlubber if there ever was one, Laguna vomited in a rain barrel, set a fire in the kitchen, got seasick in calm seas, fell overboard more than once, and got the crew all riled up with his jokes and asinine proclamations.

But somehow, Laguna Loire had swept his smart, practical mother off her feet. She loved him, regardless of his stupidity.

Hard to imagine how she had fallen for someone like Laguna. He took nothing seriously, distracted Squall's crew, and delighted in making a spectacle of himself. It made no sense. It wasn't _reasonable_.

"And yet you married him."

"Aye," she said.

"Why?"

Squall had never discussed Laguna with his mother before. He supposed it was the wine drawing out his own odd fascination with Laguna's carefree attitude. As a boy, he'd enjoyed the free-spirited Laguna and all his jokes and rhymes and funny sayings that made no sense, but as he'd grown, his amusement had turned to disdain. The older he got, the less he believed there was more to the man than met the eye.

"The heart wants what it wants," Raine said. "No sense in denying it."

"Doesn't answer my question."

"He made me laugh," Raine said. "He was unpredictable. And he wasn't afraid of me."

"I would have keelhauled him."

"I almost did. Twice."

Squall glanced over at her and saw the soft, gentle smile on her lips.

"You can't help who you love, Squall," she said softly. "Nor your reasons for loving them."

* * *

By the time Rinoa sat down to eat, most of the crew was finished. She was still a little nauseous, but she two slices of bread and some potatoes anyway, while sharing her misfortune with the Captain with Zell and Selphie.

"Cap'n doesn't joke around about stuff like that," Selphie said. "Usually, he'd just toss ya over the side and walk away."

"Could be that I threatened to get sick on him..." Rinoa murmured.

"You what?" Zell asked. "Oh, Rin. That was a bad idea."

"What was I supposed to do? Let him kill me?"

"I'm surprised he didn't," Zell said. "Leonhart doesn't play around. Ye better mind your tongue from now on or else yer fish food."

The tall, purple hatted Pirate Rinoa had seen on deck joined them, carrying four mugs. He pushed one at Rinoa with a smarmy smile and lifted one eyebrow, inviting her to take his offering.

"This is Irvine," Selphie said, hitching a thumb at the man. "Better known as Scurvy Irvy."

"No one calls me that but you, me darlin'," Irvine said.

"Not true," Selphie said. "Everyone knows what a scurvy dog ya are. Do not trust him, Rinny. His ego's bigger than his hat."

Irvine pressed a hand to his chest like she'd wounded him.

"Yer breakin' me heart, lass," he said, laying it on thick. To Rinoa, he said, "Yer the girl that ran into the boom."

"That would be me. Though, it hit me and not the other way around."

Rinoa eyed the contents of the mug Irvine had given her with suspicion. It was filled with a cloudy, brownish liquid and smelled of spices and strong alcohol.

"What is this?"

"Grog," Zell supplied. "Don't worry. It's just a little rum mixed with sugar and spices."

Rinoa didn't know if her stomach could handle rum yet. Though a little food had settled it, she still had that uneasy, sick feeling that came from the constant rocking motion beneath her. She now knew it was seasickness, and she was doing her best to fight it back.

She took a small sip and found that it wasn't so bad. She tasted vanilla, orange peel, clove and allspice mixed with honey, followed by a powerful punch of liquor. The second sip was even better.

"Um, so... maybe this is a strange question, but... Is this ship haunted?"

All three of them laughed and Rinoa felt dumb for asking.

"I take it ye met Laguna," Zell said.

"And a woman named Raine," she said.

"She actually talked to ya?" Selphie asked.

Rinoa nodded.

"She doesn't talk to anyone but the Cap'n," Selphie said doubtfully.

"Who are they?"

They all exchanged glances as though they weren't sure if they should tell her or not. Zell finally shrugged and took a long swallow of his grog before turning to Rinoa.

"Cap'n Raine Leonhart was the baddest pirate on the seas in 'er time," Zell said. "A real tough broad. Didn't mess around and was pretty much feared by everyone. This was her ship and the Cap'n's her son."

Rinoa didn't know what to address first. The fact that the woman had given birth to such a hateful, horrible man, or the fact that she'd been a famous Captain.

"She didn't seem that fearsome," Rinoa said.

"Trust me, she can be," Irvine said.

"How did they die?"

"Terrible storm one night," Irvine said. "Washed most of the crew overboard, including Raine and her husband Laguna. Ship was found on a sandbar near the Island Closest to Hell a few days later. The Cap'n and his sister were the only survivors."

"That's sad," Rinoa said. "And kind of romantic. At least they went together."

"Nothin' romantic about drowning," Zell said. "And they're still here, so something musta gone wrong."

"They're looking out for their boy is what they're doing," Irvine said, giving Zell a knowing glance. "Now, Laguna, he talks to anyone who'll pay attention, but that Raine, she don't talk to no one but the Cap'n."

"But she did talk to me," Rinoa said. "At least, I think she was talking to me."

"What did she say?" Selphie asked.

"That the Captain needed to find himself."

"Huh," Selphie said. "I've been trying for years to get 'er to talk to me and nothin'. Not a word," Selphie said, and her expression softened. "Laguna's handsome, don't you think?"

"Laguna's dead, Sef. Doesn't matter if he's handsome or not," Irvine said.

"Does so," Selphie insisted. To Rinoa, she said: "He's a lot of fun. And as long as ya stay out of Raine's way and aren't a threat to her boy, yer fine."

"Yeah, even though she's dead, she's pretty damn scary," Zell said. "I remember this one time, back before the Cap'n was a Cap'n, these Mutineers tried to board the ship. He took a pretty bad hit in the shoulder, cut him wide open. Well, Raine, she got pissed and chased them right off the ship. It was like she was going into battle with us, swinging her cutlass and barking orders. Craziest thing I ever saw."

"She's been known to make people disappear," Selphie said. "If ya get my drift."

"It's not nice to talk about people behind their backs, you know," Laguna said and plopped down at the table beside Irvine.

"You're dead, so what's it matter?" Irvine asked.

Selphie flashed Laguna an adoring smile. Irvine dropped an arm around Selphie's shoulders, frowning down at the way Selphie was looking at Laguna. Rinoa didn't know what was weirder. Selphie having an obvious crush on a ghost or Irvine's reaction to it.

"Still have feelings," Laguna said. "And none of you can prove that my Raine made anyone disappear."

"Maybe not, but seems like anyone who messes with him winds up shark bait."

"Could be they were just clumsy."

"Should I be worried?" Rinoa asked. "I did kick him."

"Naw," Laguna said, a ghostly hand reaching over to pat hers. She felt nothing except an icy breeze on her skin. "I think she's rather fond of you. Hasn't stopped talking about you!"

"Why would she be fond of me?" Rinoa asked. "We don't even know each other."

"Sparks, my dear. Sparks! Like all the stars in the sky..." Laguna began to sing and he got up to dance away from the table, kicking up his heels and spinning in circles. "Yo, ho, ho..."

Rinoa shivered and took another swallow of grog. Now that she knew Raine was the Captain's mother, she saw the resemblance, but where Raine had a bit of warmth behind her sternness, the Captain was icy cold and cruel. Still, he hadn't thrown her overboard, so perhaps there was a little humanity in him. Maybe. Just a little.

Across the table, Selphie snatched Irvine's hat off his head and dropped it on her own. It swallowed her whole face and Rinoa could only see her big grin beneath it. Irvine made a bid to retrieve it, but Selphie darted away from the table after Laguna with a giggle. Irvine shrugged and returned his attention to Rinoa.

"I heard you called the Cap'n a meany."

"I did," Rinoa said.

"Strong words," he teased.

Rinoa shrugged, and lifted her chin a little.

"What would you have called him?"

"I wouldn't have called him anything," Irvine said. "You're lucky he didn't give ya a short drop and a quick stop."

Rinoa didn't know what that meant, but she assumed it was not pleasant. She obviously had a lot to learn if she was going to survive this adventure.

"What does that mean?" Rinoa asked.

"Hanging," Zell supplied.

Rinoa did not want to be hanged, keelhauled or anything else that involved dying. She would have to make sure not to anger the Captain any more than she already had. From the sound of it, she was lucky he hadn't carried through on his threat.

"If you ask me, the man could use a good tumble in the sheets," Irvine said. "Always works for me when I get a little cranky."

Rinoa blushed and Irvine's face lit up. He hitched up an eyebrow and took a swallow from his cup.

"You're not some sheltered princess who ran away from home, are ye?" he asked.

Rinoa's blush deepened and she stammered, unable to find words to deny his extremely accurate accusation. That was exactly what she was and she was disappointed that it showed.

"Relax," he said offering a friendly smile. "Ye wouldn't be the first, though most of yer lot run away screaming as soon as we make port."

"I won't," she promised. "I'm tougher than that."

"Ye must be if you mouthed off to the captain before we were barely out of the harbor," Irvine said. "Tell me, what makes a sheltered girl run away from home, anyway?"

While Rinoa didn't want to get into the particulars of her situation, she felt an honest answer was due. She wasn't stupid enough to tell them who she really was, in case that made her more valuable as a prisoner than as a member of the crew. Not that her father had the funds to pay ransom, but most people didn't know just how far in debt the man had gotten himself, and it wouldn't stop anyone from making demands on him.

"Obligation."

"You were obligated to run away?"

"Something like that," she said. "It was run or... become someone I don't want to be. I felt like I'd die if I didn't get away."

"Well, fortune favors the bold," Irvine said with a crooked smile. "And the foolhardy."

His smile was not directed at Rinoa, but at Selphie, who had climbed up on a table to dance a jig with Laguna. Shouts of anger arose as Selphie's boot knocked over someone's mug of grog but Selphie danced on, laughing gleefully as Laguna whipped off his hat and bowed to her.

Beside Rinoa, Zell shook his head at the girl and downed the rest of his drink.

"She's as bad as he is," Zell commented.

"Don't I know it," Irvine said with a resigned sigh.

"Psh, don't even pretend ye don't enjoy every second of it."

Irvine finished his own drink and got to his feet.

"Suppose I should go get me hat back," he said. "And remind me woman a dead man won't keep her warm at night."

Rinoa blushed again and tried not to picture Irvine and Selphie curled up in a hammock together. She wasn't used to people being so open about private things, but she supposed in time, she would get used to it.

"Come on," Zell said. "We should get some sleep. We're up before everyone but the Cap'n and the night watch."

Back in the Galley, Rinoa sifted through her bag for her nightgown, then crawled into the bunk and pulled the curtain. Blank and Cinna were busy hauling in dishes as she changed. She hoped they weren't watching her through the gap in the curtain. She might just have to use that frying pan as a weapon if they were.

She was about to close her eyes when she decided that maybe she did need a weapon, just in case. She was one of about six women on the entire ship, and she didn't want to take any chances. Ignoring the looks she got from Blank and Cinna, she opened the cabinet and retrieved a heavy, cast iron frying pan, clutched it to her chest, then returned to her bunk. Snorts of laughter filled the room as she pulled the curtain and lay down to wait for them to stop making noise.

It was a while before they were done, but the ship was not quiet when they finally retired. Voices and laughter echoed from beyond the galley. The ship ticked and popped and banged as it rocked in the waves. Every sound conjured fear the ship was sinking, that it had sprung a leak, and she was going to drown. Every peal of laughter was some vile man plotting against her virtue.

She slept fitfully, tossing and turning on the hard, thin mattress and she dreamed of going overboard. Sometimes the Captain threw her. Sometimes she fell on her own.

A scrape and a bump woke her from her light doze and she sat up, listening carefully for any indication that someone was up to no good. Nothing. And then, the distinct sound of a boot against the wood floor. Her fingers curled around the handle of the frying pan as she heard a second footstep and a soft clank.

Zell had told her no one was allowed in the galley outside of meals. If she were to bet on it, she'd place her coins on someone foraging for a midnight snack. She clutched the frying pan tighter and crept out of bed.

The wood stove was almost out, but it cast enough light that she could very clearly see the shape of someone digging through a crate on the other side of the room. On light feet, she crept up behind them, brandishing the pan as if it were a sword.

"Oh no you don't," she said.

The forager turned just as she swung the pan with all her strength. It collided with his head with a hard, solid clang and as the man fell, she saw his stunned face staring back at her. Her stomach dropped as his eyes rolled back in his head as he slumped to the floor.

It was the Captain.

And she'd knocked him unconscious.


	3. Chapter 3

Seifer Almasy stood at the bow of the _Hyperion_ and stared out at the night with a mixture of trepidation and irritation. When he'd left port, he'd been filled with a sense of victory and purpose as his small ship cut a brisk path through the waves toward the treasure he knew was waiting for him. They'd made great time, in spite of his crew's inept and juvenile behavior and overall lack of sailing experience. The wind had been in their favor, and for the first time, Seifer had an edge over his competition.

He would find the treasure first. He would reap the rewards and be known as the best, most fearsome Pirate to ever sail the seas. He'd felt it in his bones.

That was until the bilge pump stopped working and the wind died. Now, the Hyperion was adrift, slowly taking on water, and the crimson sails hung limp from the masts. No matter which way he angled the booms, there was no wind to catch.

They were stalled, going nowhere fast, and every second the ship didn't sail meant the _Lionheart_ was closing the gap. Seifer couldn't afford for that to happen.

No matter what Squall believed, Seifer Almasy was the better sailor. The better Pirate. Somehow, some way, he would prove it. He just had to get the ship sailing again. To do that, he needed a crew that wasn't a bunch of lazy, incompetent, useless idiots.

Presently, his crew gathered near an open barrel of mead at the stern, helping themselves to a week's worth of rations. Supplies ran lean on the _Hyperion_ , as so far, they'd failed to take a major haul. Yet here they were, living it up like mead was free and they had nothing better to do.

Normally, this wouldn't be a problem for Seifer. Normally, he'd join in and drink a journey's share in a single night. But not today. Not today, when Leonhart and his merry band of morons was set to overtake them and beat them to the treasure. Not today when nothing seemed to be going right.

He glanced over his shoulder in time to see Zidane swinging upside down below the crow's nest, hanging on with just his stupid monkey tail. This kid actually _was_ a competent sailor, having grown up on a theater ship, and he knew what he was doing. Problem was, the kid acted a fool any time a girl was within ten feet of him. Flirting. Singing. Anything to get their attention and ignore all the work that needed to be done.

Seifer had had enough. He turned fully around to face the congregation of dumbasses

"This isn't a pleasure cruise," he shouted. "Get back to work!"

His order was met with absolute silence. The only one of the bunch to look appropriately ashamed was one of a trio of hot treasure hunters he'd picked up in Balamb or some other podunk island. Yula or something. Yona?

Yuna. That was it.

Yuna cast her eyes to the deck and clasped her hands in front of her. Her scary-hot amber-eyed friend leaned casually against stack of barrels, arms folded over her chest, staring back at him with an expression that reminded Seifer a little too much of Squall. He had no idea where the cute one with the braids went, but it didn't matter. None of them knew a lick about sailing and if they didn't figure it out soon, he was going to start chucking bodies over the rail, starting with the idiot hanging upside down.

"WORK!" he bellowed and stormed toward his cabin in a huff.

Before he could retreat to the relative silence of his private room, the cute blonde treasure hunter bounced into his path, her beaded braids clicking together with each step. She grinned hugely up at him, a tiny but feisty little thing.

"Stop right there, Cap'n," she said cheerily. "I've got news."

"You giving me orders?" he barked and narrowed his eyes.

Being mean to this girl did not have the desired effect. She put her hands on her hips and planted her feet like she was ready to fight. Her smile fell.

"If you're going to be a poopie-pants about it, maybe I won't tell you."

"What did you call me?"

"A poopie-pants," she said. Fearless, this one. "Do you want the news or not?"

Did she not know he was the one in charge here? That he could break her in half, tie her to a rope and toss her over the side without batting an eye?

"You dare call the Captain of this ship a poopie-pants?" Seifer said through clenched teeth. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Please. My dad's way scarier than you. He once broke a guy's nose because he didn't like his face."

Good God. Nothing phased her. Her scary leather-clad friend, he could understand. That girl was a trained fighter. Ex-military, he suspected. This girl, Seifer could pick up with one hand and shake like a rag doll.

"Soooo?" she prompted.

Seifer sighed. "What is it?"

She bounced on her toes and did a little dance.

Cute. But not cute enough to quell his dark mood.

"I got the bilge pump working again," she said. She picked up an extra-large pair of shredded, soaking wet long johns left draped over a rain barrel. Seifer suspected they belonged to Raijin. "These were all tangled up in the motor. Took a while to get 'em out, but once I did, I got it going again. Piece of cake."

This was better news than he expected. Much better news. It meant his ship would not end up on the bottom of the sea or beach itself on a sand bar.

"You fixed it?"

"I just said I did, didn't I?" She rolled her eyes at him. "It's working just fine now."

"What's your name again?"

"Rikku," she said coyly.

"Congratulations, Rikku," he said. "You've just been promoted to Chief Engineer."

"That means more gold, right?" she said. "I mean, engineering sounds like it's pretty important and all. Could be disasteriffic if something were to go wrong and nobody could fix it."

Seifer pinched the bridge of his nose. Why, oh why had he filled his crew with imbeciles who thought he was made of gold and knew nothing about sailing or Pirating in general?

Because they worked for almost nothing but the promise of a cut of the as yet undiscovered treasure. And, Seifer had to admit, because filling his ship with eye-candy had somehow taken precedence over filling it with experienced sailors.

Well, at least this eye-candy was useful for something other than looking cute.

"Yeah, It means you'll be in charge of fixing things that break," Seifer said. "As soon as they break."

"For more gold," she said. " _Right_?"

"If you prove yourself useful," Seifer said, "and we actually get our hands on some gold, then there might be a little extra something in it for you."

The key word here was _might_. If he was feeling generous that day.

"Then you got yourself a Chief Engineer," she said cheerfully. "See ya 'round, Cap!"

She punched him in the arm playfully and bounded off across the deck to join her friends. Seifer saw her make a point of stepping on a tattooed guy in overalls sprawled face-down on the deck. The guy groaned in pain but didn't get up. Seifer gave a little snort of appreciation for her lack of consideration for the guy's well-being. It was something he would do to a sailor who couldn't handle his grog.

Actually, Seifer probably would have done worse on principal.

As he reached a door that would lead him back to relative peace and quiet, Fujin stepped into his path. Her expression was grim and Seifer braced himself for a kick in the shin or a complaint.

He got neither.

"NEWS."

"What is it, Fu?" he asked tiredly. "I already know about the bilge pump."

"THERE."

She pointed toward the horizon. Seifer cast his gaze away from his First Mate and toward the sea. He stiffened and narrowed his eyes at the not-so-distant lights bobbing above the waves. A twinge of excitement coursed through his veins at the prospect of plunder.

"Merchant ship?" he asked.

Fujin shook her head and the twinge of excitement tightened into irritation once more as he anticipated what Fujin was about to say.

"LEONHART."

Seifer peered at the lights, a flare of anger rising in his chest. _Leonhart_. He hadn't expected an encounter so soon, but what the hell. Now was as good a time as any, and better to be on the offensive than to cross his fingers and hope that he was not spotted.

"Ready the cannons," he said. "Prepare for the crew for battle."

"ORDERS?"

"Take the helm," Seifer said. "And ram them with everything we've got."

"CAPTAIN?"

"Sink 'em Fuu," Seifer said. "I want that goddamn ship on the bottom of the sea by sun-up."

* * *

Rinoa dropped the frying pan and scrambled away from the unconscious Captain. Her back hit the side of her bunk just as a sleepy-eyed Zell peered out from behind the curtains. When the Captain woke up, he was most certainly going to drop her over the side without a second thought. She was doomed.

"Whassgoinon?" Zell mumbled at her.

Incapable of coherent speech, Rinoa lifted a finger and pointed at the man on the floor. Zell gave a soft curse and sighed as he swung his legs over the edge of the bunk. Fully alert now, Zell hopped down and ran a hand through his sleep-smashed bangs.

"What did ye do this time?"

"I thought he was an intruder," Rinoa said. "You said no one in the kitchen. To make sure no one stole food."

"I said that," Zell agreed. "But I also said no one _but_ the Captain."

"I didn't know it was him, I swear," she said. She bit her lip. "Think he's going to kill me?"

"Probably," Zell said with a straight face. He turned toward her and took her by the arm. "Get back in yer bunk. I'll handle this."

"But-"

"Just... Get back in yer bunk, Rin," Zell said. "Please."

Reluctantly, Rinoa pushed the curtains aside and sat but didn't retreat entirely. She did not trust that Zell wasn't about to throw himself on the fire for her sake. She didn't know why she got that impression, or why he would bother, since so far, she hadn't been able to do anything right. Though the Captain was less likely to kill Zell, it wasn't fair for him to take the blame on her behalf.

Zell nudged the Captain with his foot. "Hey, Cap. Wake up."

The Captain didn't move and Rinoa's face scrunched with worry. She hadn't _killed_ him, had she? She held on to the sliver of hope that the man might be merciful if he was alive, but if she'd killed him, she wasn't likely to see the sunrise.

Zell scratched his head and looked over his shoulder at her.

"How hard did ye hit him?"

"Pretty hard," she said. She pointed to the cast iron frying pan on the floor. "Maybe too hard?"

Zell scratched his chin again and sighed. He gave the Captain another nudge with his toe and crossed his arms.

"Okay, here's what we're going to - "

"TOPSIDE!" a sharp female voice called out. "ALL CREW, TOPSIDE ON THE DOUBLE!"

Rinoa froze. Had someone seen? Had word spread that she'd assaulted the Captain with kitchen utensils? Were they going to make her walk the plank? Oh, Hyne, was it really that bad?

Her heart pounded as a bell began to clang and she heard the rustle of people moving around and the echo of footsteps on the wooden floor beyond the galley.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," Zell said. "Come on. Help me get 'im up."

Rinoa climbed from her bunk and joined Zell on the floor. Together, they lifted the still unconscious Captain to a sitting position and Zell slapped lightly at the man's face. In sleep, Captain Leonhart looked very, very young. Also, a little too cute for his own good. How could someone so good looking be such a mean meanie? It didn't seem right.

"Leonhart, wake up," Zell said, louder this time but there was no response. "C'mon Cap. Rise 'n shine."

Captain Leonhart didn't move. His head lolled on his neck. His eyelashes were enviable. What woman wouldn't give her best pair of dancing shoes for lashes like that?

"Get me a mug of water, will ya?" Zell asked.

Rinoa went to the barrel of water on the other side of the galley. She pried the lid off and dipped the ladle in to fill a mug, wondering what Zell meant to do with it. She replaced the lid and carefully carried the water back to Zell, trying not to spill. Water sloshed over the sides anyway and she wished she could blame her unsteadiness on being unaccustomed to living on a ship, but that wasn't entirely true.

"...here," she said, offering Zell the cup.

"Throw it in his face."

"What?!"

"The shock will wake him up," Zell said. "Hurry up. We need'ta get topside."

"I'm not doing that!"

"Rin, just do it, okay?" Zell said. "Don't worry. I've got a good grip on him so he doesn't try to choke ye when he wakes up."

Rinoa gaped at Zell, incredulous. She definitely did not want to risk being choked, or face any other attack the Captain might attempt in retribution for her stupid, stupid, thoughtless assault on him.

"You do it," she said, holding the mug out. "I do not want to be the first thing he sees when he wakes up in case he remembers I'm the one who brained him with a skillet."

"This is yer fault. Ye get to wake 'im up."

Rinoa swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

"If he decides to kill me for this, I'm taking you down with me," she said. "It was your idea."

"Rin, seriously," Zell said. "We don't have time for this."

"Okay, okay!" she cried. She upended the cup over the Captain's head and muttered, "It's been nice knowing you, Zell."

The Captain's eyes popped wide open and he gasped as he sat up straighter. Water poured from his hair and streamed down his face in tiny rivers. Slowly, he turned his cold stare on Rinoa and she cringed. It was like being stared at by a hungry, feral animal. One false move and he'd tear her to pieces and feed her to the fish.

"How did I know it would be you?" he murmured.

"I-"

"We got bigger problems, Cap," Zell said. "Trepe sounded the alarm. Can ye walk?"

The Captain tore his eyes from her and he nodded, then winced in pain. He pressed a gloved hand to the back of his head and grunted.

"You and I are not done," he said to Rinoa frostily as he got to his feet. "Stay in your bunk. I'll be back to deal with you later."

"But-"

Zell's warning glance made any protest die in her throat. She swallowed back tears and retreated to her bunk without a word. She closed the curtain and backed up against the wall and wrapped herself in the thin blanket. As if that would protect her from what was coming. Maybe it would be better if she jumped overboard on her own instead of letting Captain Meanie-Pants do it instead.

"All hands on deck, Dincht," the Captain said.

"Aye," Zell said. "I'll get Blank and Cinna topside and join ye."

"Make sure the girl stays down here."

"I'll do me best."

Activity and muffled voices and shouts came from above. Her thoughts turned from imagining all the ways Captain Leonhart might decide to punish her to what could possibly be going on above deck. Zell yelled something at Blank and Cinna, something that was answered with groans and a few swears Rinoa had never heard before. There was a bit of scuffling and complaining, then three sets of footsteps retreated from the room.

She'd been told to stay put, but curiosity reared its ugly head, and she peeked out from behind her curtain just as an explosion split the relative quiet in the Galley. A second later, the ship listed heavily to one side and Rinoa was toppled out of bed and onto the floor, where she tumbled to a stop against the worktable. Her head smacked against the wooden edge hard enough that she saw stars and blackness for an instant. Tears of pain filled the corners of her eyes and she wiped them away as her vision cleared.

She lifted her hand to the back of her head and she felt a lump already forming beneath her fingertips. Could have been worse. At least she hadn't knocked _herself_ unconscious.

Slowly, she got to her feet and weighed her options. Now that she'd been forced from her bunk, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to take a peek. Just a quick look and then she'd return to her bunk to await her impending execution.

After all, the Captain probably wanted to have her hanged already, and he couldn't kill her twice. What harm would it do to take a look?

She grabbed her dress and pulled it on over her head, tying the sash hastily as she headed out the door.

The hold beyond the Galley door was empty, but there were shouts and sounds of battle from above as she climbed the ladder to the deck. That should have sent her running back to her quarters, but the lure of excitement was too great for Rinoa to deny.

Rinoa had never seen a real battle before. Some of her male school friends had joined the army, and her father had been to war. Their tales of bravery and heroism never failed to enchant her. Back before she and her father had stopped seeing eye to eye, his stories of battle and victory against the mighty but terrible Empire of Esthar had been her favorite bedtime tales. She'd fantasized for years as a girl about lifting a weapon and charging into battle, leaving fear and uncertainty behind. In her head, she was a champion of the weak, a freedom fighter, a leader of the oppressed.

In reality, she was just a step below a spoiled princess and she knew that. It didn't stop her from wanting to join the fight going on above. To be useful was to be valuable. Indispensable even. If she helped out, helped them win the battle, the cranky Captain would have no choice but to spare her life and declare her part of the crew.

With this in mind, Rinoa resumed the short climb and found herself in the middle of an all-out brawl. A smaller ship with dark red sails butted up against their much larger ship, and armed sailors spilled onto deck with blades and various other weapons in hand. A thrill of adrenaline spiked in her veins and she looked around for something to fight with. There was nothing useful so she crouched behind crates and moved as silently as she could to get closer to the action.

In the midst of all of it, the Captain shouted orders as he battled a tall, blonde Pirate in a elegant white coat. Leonhart, having been knocked unconscious only a short time ago seemed no worse for the wear.

It was rather impressive to see the man fight. His face was a picture of focus and determination, his eyes fixed on his target like a lion who had sighted the weakest chocobo in the flock.

But, from the looks of it, this lion had chosen the big game rather than an easy target. The man he fought was no less impressive in skill, though the blonde was far less precise in his movements. She felt like she was watching a well choreographed fight in a play, not an actual battle. It was incredible, and sort of beautiful.

She crept closer on bare feet, wondering what she could do to help, when a hand seized her from behind and dragged her backward. She spun around to face a tall, silver-haired woman with cold amber eyes.

"Yuna. A hostage," the woman deadpanned.

A brown-haired girl about her age stepped forward and inspected Rinoa from head to toe. Rinoa struggled a little, but the amber-eyed woman's grip was like a vice. The other woman's gaze was kind and contemplative rather than hostile. After a moment, the woman, presumably Yuna, shook her head.

"She's dressed like a kitchen wench," Yuna said. "She has no weapon."

"Your point?"

"What's the point of taking a serving girl hostage?"

"Want me to kill her?"

"I don't think that will be necessary," Yuna said.

Rinoa let out a breath of relief and sagged back against the crates.

"Thanks," she breathed. "For not killing me."

"Mmm," Yuna hummed with a slight nod. "Before you go, is there a young man named Tidus on this ship? Blonde, athletic?"

"Not that I know of," Rinoa said. "But I'm new, so..."

"We're in the middle of a battle and you're asking about your boyfriend?" the amber-eyed girl asked.

Yuna's dejected shrug tugged at Rinoa's heart. Rivals or not, Rinoa empathized. Not that Rinoa had a long-lost boyfriend or anything. Not that she'd ever really experienced much in the romance department, but still, she understood the sadness in Yuna's eyes. She'd lost someone, too, but her someone was long gone and wasn't coming back.

"I'd stay out of sight if you want to live," Yuna said softly. "Or go below deck. The others won't be so kind."

She was right, but Rinoa had no intention of returning to her bunk to sit it out. She could do this. She could do something to help.

She dropped back down behind the crates and continued to creep forward to peer through a gap that gave her a good view of the Captain. He and the blonde Pirate were still engaged in a fierce battle, blades crashing against one another with bangs that sounded like gunfire. In the background, she spied Zell without a weapon, pummeling the crap out of a blonde that looked suspiciously like he had a tail.

Something heavy landed on her. Momentarily stunned, she was pinned between the heavy thing and a crate and unsure of how to proceed. When the heavy thing didn't move, she shoved it off. A dead Pirate rolled into the space beside her, staring at her with glassy eyes.

"Take his weapon, Rinoa."

Startled, Rinoa turned and came face to face with the ghost of Raine Leonhart. She expected the woman's wrath, but instead, got quiet encouragement and a touch of amusement. There was so much strength in the woman's pale, semi-transparent face. So much pride. And more than just a passing resemblance to the cold, unkind young Captain.

"Go ahead," Raine said. She tilted her head toward a strange looking contraption laying beside the fallen Pirate. "You want to make yourself useful, then quit hiding and _make yourself useful_."

The Captain's own mother was sanctioning this. The Infamous Captian Raine Leonhart _wanted_ her to fight. That was as good as an order from the Captain himself.

Rinoa reached for the weapon, unsure of what it was, but it appeared to be a projectile of some sort. Like a crossbow, but with a small disk similar to a sawblade in place of an arrow or a bolt. Without a moment to spare, she searched the body for additional disks, but found nothing but a couple of vials of greenish liquid.

Probably liquor of some sort. She pocketed them and considered her new weapon.

She'd likely only get one shot, and she'd better make that shot count, she supposed.

On her knees, Rinoa strapped the weapon to her wrist and braced her arm against the top of a crate. She tracked the blonde Pirate, then took aim.

She could do this. She could help.

She pulled the trigger just as the taller man brought his blade down upon the Captain. The blade sliced deep into the Captain's face, and bright crimson blood poured from the wound, down over his nose and lips. It dripped from his chin and onto his white linen shirt.

Rinoa was horrified and worried the Captain would die. He was not a kind man, but these other Pirates could be so much worse. Better to stick with the devil she sort-of knew than face becoming a hostage to one even more terrible.

She didn't see if her aim was true or not, but she doubted it. The taller man seemed unaffected by her assassination attempt and continued to advance on the wounded Captain.

The Captain went to a knee, just as the projectile came careening back to her and lodged itself firmly in its place on her new weapon.

Well, that was handy, wasn't it?

She aimed and fired again as the blonde raised his blade to finish the blinded Captain off.

This time, her little sawblade sliced deep into the sleeve of the man's coat. The coat blossomed red and his gaze slid her way. The Captain got to his feet, lifted his blade, and took a swing.

Rinoa covered her eyes when the tall Pirate's face split open and his blood sprayed across the deck. The projectile returned to her once more, and she didn't hesitate to fire on him again.

Raine drifted toward her injured son, a hateful sneer on her face for the blonde man, who grunted in pain when Rinoa's fresh attack struck him square in the chest.

"Get off our ship, you... scurvy dog!" Rinoa cried through gritted teeth.

"Rinoa?" the blonde murmured as he dropped his blade and wiped the blood from his eyes.

Rinoa took a step back and stared. He looked familiar. Really familiar.

He smiled and held his hands out, palms upturned, and shrugged.

She would never forget that smile. That was the smile that had ruined her reputation and had stolen her heart for a time, not to mention her future. Perhaps she had him to thank for the last part, but she would not forgive him for what he'd done to her or to her father.

" _You're_ the Dread Pirate Almasy?" she asked.

"In the flesh," he said.

He gave her a slight, shaky bow. Then, his eyes went unfocused and he slid to the ground and landed on his backside with a thud.

The chaos all around her swelled into a whirlwind of bodies in motion and shouts and metal crashing against metal as Almasy's men attempted to retrieve their Captain.

Rinoa didn't care one way or another. Not really. She might have a history with Seifer Almasy, she might have liked him at one point, but she was far more concerned about the Captain's welfare than Seifer's.

Captain Leonhart sat on the deck, bloody and dazed but alive. The cut on his face was deep. Rinoa dropped to her knees in front of him and beside his worried mother. She took his face between her palms to inspect the wound, but he winced away from her touch.

Rinoa held firm and looked as closely as she dared. Not life threatening, she decided, but it was nasty. It would need stitching and was sure to leave a scar.

"FULL PRESS!" First Mate Trepe cried. "DRIVE THEM BACK."

"Come to finish the job?" the Captain asked.

"Excuse me, I _saved_ you," she declared.

"I beg to differ."

"Be quiet," she ordered and tore a scrap of fabric from the hem of her dress and attempted to press it against his wound. "I'll try to stop the bleeding."

The Captain swatted her hand away and muttered a curse under his breath. Rinoa wracked her brain for a way to get him to comply. He was weak and a little out of it, either from the cut or the head injury she'd inflicted. If he fought too hard, she supposed she could whack him over the head with something else and force him to submit to her sorely lacking nursing skills.

"READY THE CANNONS!"

Footsteps alerted Rinoa to a potential threat and she lifted the weapon from the ground to aim it in the direction of the attack.

"What happened?" First Mate Trepe demanded.

Rinoa lowered her weapon, and the First Mate dropped down beside Rinoa.

"Where's Almasy?"

"Being dragged back on that dinghy he calls a ship," the Captain muttered.

"No thanks to me," Rinoa said hotly. "You're welcome, by the way."

"Then I'll not thank you," he said.

"Leonhart, you're injured," Trepe said. "Badly. You need to let Rinoa treat you."

"M'fine," he grunted. He cast a cloudy, unfocused gaze on the First Mate. "You forgot to tell them to fire at will."

Trepe's mouth quirked into a smile and she turned toward the bow and bellowed out an order. A moment later, another voice called for retreat. Rinoa noted it was not Seifer.

"Let's get him to his quarters," Trepe said. "Help me get him up."

"I can stand," the Captain said petulantly.

"Then on your feet, Leonhart," Rinoa said lightly. His withering glare made her cringe and she backpedaled. "Captain. Sir. Um..."

"I told you to stay in your bunk."

"Good thing I didn't listen."

"That is debatable."

He pushed himself into a crouch and rose slowly, but the moment he stood, his face paled and he pitched forward. Rinoa stepped into his path just in time to keep him from crashing face first onto the deck. She tucked herself under his arm and the First Mate took the other side. Together, to the sound of cannon blasts, they dragged him into his quarters. He protested weakly but apparently, the two separate head injuries had sapped all the conviction from his body.

They deposited him on the bed and Trepe passed Rinoa a handful of rags and a bottle of grain alcohol.

"Can you sew?"

"A little," Rinoa said, frowning at the memory of being made to embroider and stitch clothing every afternoon in preparation for running a household some day. She wasn't bad at it, she just wasn't particularly skilled either, mostly due to her lack of interest in such things. "Why do you ask?"

The First Mate passed her a small box that contained sewing supplies and Rinoa stared into the box with an eyebrow lifted.

"That wound will need to be stitched up," First Mate Trepe said. She pressed a bottle of mead into the Captain's hands. "For the pain."

"Wait, you want me to stitch him up?" Rinoa cried. "With... This?"

"I can't bloody well do it," the blonde woman said. "I have to get back out there in his stead. Don't worry. You'll be fine."

"It's not me I'm worried about," Rinoa muttered, earning her a snort from the injured cranktopus on the bed.

"Just take care of it," Trepe said. "Please."

With that, the First Mate left Rinoa all alone with the absolute last person she wanted to be left alone with.

* * *

Notes: Thanks so much to those that took the time to leave a review last chapter! It's always nice to hear words of encouragement from readers, and keeps me motivated to write and keep updating. Appreciate you guys!


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